


Hard Limits

by BlueMonday



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMonday/pseuds/BlueMonday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon hurts in places he didn't even think possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brendon isn’t a morning person.

He thinks this for the millionth time in his life as he buries his face into his soft pillow, trying to adjust with being awake. His body aches; every muscle screaming in agony as he finally gets up, and moves through his room picking up strewn items of clothing from the previous night. 

Luckily, the guy that he had managed to persuade back to his apartment had already left with his dignity intact, minus a pair of socks and a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s, which sits mockingly on Brendon’s bed side drawer.

Brendon said small thanks every time one of his one nights stand had the initiative to leave before he awoke because Ryan, his roommate, loved nothing more that teasing the guys and listing the varies bruises Brendon has acquired since the previous day as they looked at Brendon wistfully during an awkward breakfast.

He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. Living with Ryan was awesome because he was—well---Ryan, an ever evolving mystery with a love for pot and Chuck Palahniuk but living with him also meant _The Best of Reggae Volume 2_ blaring at eight in the morning and pieces of paper with scribbled thoughts on them all over the apartment.

Brendon was still trying to find good enough black mail material to make Ryan stop his habitual morning tunes but until then he had to grin and bear it, although he did have a half formed plan to get Mr Jon Walker drunk and see what slipped out. Jon had shit loads of stuff on Ross; it was just finding the right ways to extract it from the very tight lipped man.

Brendon quickly tugs on last night’s jeans and work shirt then begins his walk of shame into the small living area where Ryan was laying luxuriously, long limbs tangled over their sofa.

“Good morning lover boy. Don’t worry I let the poor chap out half an hour ago and you smell of spunk and guilt _again_.” Ryan says in that eerily calm tone than means he’s being a bitch.

He rolls his eyes and lifts Ryan’s legs then crashes down on the sofa, letting Ryan’s legs fall onto his lap with a dull thud.

“I ache in places I didn’t think I could.” Brendon groans after firstly, punching Ryan on the shoulder for the hell of it.

“Ouch.” Ryan exclaims, emphasising the –ch. “But Brendon didn’t you know? When you put a dick up your---Ow. Brendon!”

Brendon settled back into the cushions with a smug look on his face.

“You deserved it. I really don’t need your bitchy comments right now.”

Ryan grins lazily but mischievously. “Stop bringing dead beats back home then.”

He wishes it was that easy. Most men that came home with him merely complimented his ass about 10 times and he’ll admit it, that’s all it takes in some cases, to get him into bed.

Personally, he didn’t think there was a problem with that because in the end, both parties just want to get off regardless of who the other person is. It’s just his luck he brings home dead beats that 9 times out of 10 ask Ryan for money for cab fare home and boy does Ryan like to remind him of that at every single opportune moment.

Brendon rolls his shoulders back and groans. That guy really liked bearing down on his shoulder blades and tugging on the base of his hair during their second round of sex but in the moment he liked nothing more than a hot guy holding him down and pounding into him. He even _asks_ for it because vanilla sex just doesn’t keep him excited long enough to come so, all in all he looks upon his bruises and scratches as memories of a good time for everyone involved. It's just- pain is all well and good during the sex but it's afterwards that isn't something Brendon particularly enjoys.

“Go for a massage. A new store just opened last week and the prices are quite good. They do other beauty treatments as well.” Ryan supplies helpfully (for once, Brendon might add.)

He lifts up the hem of Ryan’s corduroy pants, exposing his ankle and smirks.

“Is that where you got that ridiculous henna tattoo? Is this what you do in your spare time Ry?” Brendon asks grinning.

Ryan nods in recognition then averts his gaze back to the book half read in his hand. Brendon expected a little more “Ridiculous? Whatever Brendon. It symbolises---etc. ” anything other than a blatant brush off of his comment but he reasons he’s got better things to do with his time other than arguing with Ryan over it.

Brendon ignores the tiredness in his lower limbs and gets up, pushing Ryan’s legs and making then fall unceremoniously to ground, earning a glare for his troubles.

“Love you Ry.”

“I hope you step on dog shit.” He hears as he walks out the front door.

He smiles to himself and slams the door to their apartment for effect and later hears a muffled “Slam that door one more time you asshole I swear to god—“

Brendon can still hear Bob Marley when he reaches the street.

 

 

Its 10 am by the time Brendon finally makes it into work, a small grocery store at the other side of town. He gets to his cash register and is just logging in to the monitor when he notices a note with Jon’s tell-tale scribble stuck to the receipt dispenser. _stop being a screamer. ryan called me up last night to talk about Motzart bc he couldn’t sleep u asshole. Lunch @ 1 <3_.

He chuckled and crunched the note up in his hand then chucked it in the waste bin under his work station ready for another mediocre day of checking out other people’s grocery’s. It was just his luck that his first customer of the day was a woman with a grouchy toddler who obviously hadn’t gotten enough sleep as the kid whined that she was talking to Brendon too long.

Brendon thinks he's loosing his mind when he actually thinks he'd rather be attending a college lecture than doing his job.

By the time lunch comes around, he’s ready for an A star snooze. Brendon can feel his shoulder ache and knows there must be bruising on them by now. Nail crescents left by his latest and not so greatest conquest, stung every time he reached out for the next item on the conveyer belt, making his work shirt rub against them.

 

He hates his job.

 

 

Brendon’s out smoking a cigarette when he finally sees Jon for the first time that day. He worked in the stock room at the back of the store so there paths rarely crossed, which he considered yet another down side to his job plus Brendon only worked half days due to most of his college classes being in the afternoons.

Jon nods his head in greeting then sits next to him, silently getting out his own smokes and a lighter.

“That you off then?” Jon asks, sparking up his cigarette then glancing at Brendon over the top of him black rimmed sunglasses.

Brendon inhales the first flurry of Jon’s smoke, watching it twist in the air then sighs out. 

“Yeah. Thank god for half days. I’m gonna check out a new store Ryan mentioned this morning then maybe do some studying.” He mentions, stubbing out his cigarette by scraping it against the pavement beneath him.

Jon tilts his head in Brendon’s direction, smoking languidly. “What store?”

“A massage place.”

Jon quirks an eyebrow and chuckles around his cigarette then takes his last draw, chucking it onto some nearby grass.

“And why would you need that?”

Brendon shrinks in on himself a little and plays with the threads on the worn knees of his jeans. He didn’t like talking to Jon about his sex life or more to the point, _why_ he’s always sore afterwards and not just in the usual places. Plus, Jon was Ryan’s best friend and Brendon assumes Ryan knew somewhat of what he got up to, the guy wasn’t as stupid as Brendon likes to believe, but he preferred if Jon didn’t go back with concrete proof, which he’d let slip the next time he got high.

“Just, you know---I strained a muscle working. Repetitive motion can cause stress to your muscles.” Brendon states confidently.

At this, Jon starts laughing, gulping as he tries to inhale enough air. Brendon grins even though he has no idea what's so hilarious about that. He thought it was a good excuse in place of the truth.

“ _Jesus_. Could you make that sound anymore like you strained a muscle jerking off?”

Brendon rolls his eyes good naturedly and huffs out a small laugh of his own before getting up of the concrete and dusting down his jeans.

“See you later Jon.” 

Jon, still chortling softly, raises his hand as goodbye.

 

 

The store itself wasn’t as Brendon imagined it; it was sort of light and _flowery_. For some reason, he had imaged a small, dark and seedy place but he guesses that assumption was down to too many trips to the strip where massage parlours that supplied those infamous “happy endings” where located.

He pockets his phone after replying to Ryan ( _”Bring pizza hme. Jon cming around @3 so we need munchies._ ” “ _ok douchebag tell jon nt to smoke up too mch <3333 _) and walks into the newly refurbished establishment.

“Hello. Welcome to Beauty Natruelle. How can I help?” a blond woman, dressed in a tight black beauty therapist dress asked, somewhat _too_ cheerfully.

Brendon took a few seconds to look around the place before deciding that it looked like a good enough a place as any to receive a massage. It wasn’t like there were many other places in Vegas that looked as _professional_ as this.

“Oh Hey. My roommate mentioned this place to me and said you do massages?” he asked his face slightly screwed up inquisitively because for all he knew this was another one of Ryan’s _hilarious_ jokes on him.

“Yes we do.” the girl grinned. “We do Swedish, hot stone and aromatherapy massage. I recommend the Swedish. I have that one regularly; it really loosens up my muscles and is a great de-stresser.”

He nods along with her then to save on fussiness and what he suspects he might have to listen to if he chooses another massage option, he goes with the recommended Swedish massage.

“May I ask your friends name? You get a 50% discount if they attended the opening day of the store.”

“Sure. It’s Ryan Ross” he supplies easily, eager for a discount. He was a student after all. Every little helps.

“Him. He’s your room mate?” the girl said, raising a perfectly waxed eyebrow and letting her tapping nails come to a halt.

Brendon immediately sensed a five star black mail opportunity going to come out of the girl’s mouth and nodded somewhat enthusiastically, leaning on the reception desk with open ears.

“He was just _odd_. He really enjoys poetry huh?”

He can just picture it now; Ryan asking the poor girl to do a henna tattoo on his ankle then attacking her with his take on the life works on Edgar Allan Poe and Shakespeare. 

Brendon successfully manages to quell the flurry of giggles threatening to escape him as he imagines Ryan’s idea of a good way to pick up girls.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about him. ” He says, the giggles just managing not to burst out. “So--this massage?”

“Oh, of course. Spencer doesn’t have any more appointments for today so, if you’d like to wait for him to get of his lunch break, he’d be able to take you?”

“He?”

Brendon wasn’t someone who thought people should have gender specific jobs, it was just he had never came across a male masseuse nor where there many of them he would have thought. 

“Yes. He’s already _really_ popular with the older ladies of the town.” She giggles “Can I have your name please?” Brendon tells her then she begins to type it into the computer in front of her, long nails making an unpleasing sound against the keys.

Brendon smiles at her then shuffles over to a leopard printed sofa next to the entrance and sits down. He inwardly lets out a small groan of pain and carefully positions himself so he’s sits angled on one ass cheek. He’s quickly beginning to regret getting out of his bed.

Another customer walks in; a teenage girl who asks for her eyebrows waxed and shaped. She immediately gets taken into a private room by the receptionist leaving Brendon alone in the unnervingly quiet waiting room but she said _Spencer_ would be arriving shortly so he sunk back into the sofa a little more and waited.

 

 

After 15 minutes of waiting and no sight of the receptionist – seriously how long does it take to wax eyebrows? - He decided that maybe he doesn’t need a massage after all. He’s coped with this type of pain for most of his adult life so he can last a little longer with it but the second that thought ran through his head, the entrance doorbell rang out.

A fair haired man walked in, dressed in a male version of the receptionists outfit.

“Hi I’m Spencer. I’m guessing you’re---“the man glanced down at his iPhone “Brendon. In for a Swedish Massage?”

Brendon nods, slightly taken back by how _manly_ \- if that was the right word- the masseuse was. From the receptionist earlier information, about the guy being popular with the older generation, he had pictured an older man in his forties maybe but this Spencer guy was _definitely_ not middle aged at all.

“I’m sorry for running late. I had something to take care of during my lunch hour and didn’t expect it to take as long as it did.” Spencer explains, waving his right hand about as he talked. 

“That’s completely fine. It didn’t seem like you were that late.” Brendon blatantly lies. He’s been watching the clock hanging on the wall for _entertainment_ , of course he knew Spencer was that late.

Spencer smiles, showing a perfect row of whitened teeth and Brendon stomach drops a little. He suddenly realises this incredibly hot guy is going to have his hands all over him in less than ten minutes. He’s okay with that, very _very_ okay with that.

“Would you like to follow me through to the treatment room?”

Brendon smiles shyly and gets up from the sofa, somewhat stiffly and follows Spencer into a small room. 

 

The room was set up as if you were out for a romantic evening with a significant other. Lit candles were littered around the room and soft tunes playing form a CD player in the far corner. It immediately made him feel uncomfortable. It was too intimate.

Spencer walks to a table where towels and various lotions where sitting upon it. Brendon hears him sigh seemingly annoyed before turning around with a frown on his face.

“I’m sorry about this. One of the other therapists has stolen the massage oil for another client. Just take off your shirt and unbutton the top of your jeans for me, then lay face down on the bed okay?” he says calmly, patting the massage table covered with a towel.

“I’ll just go find some more oil. Be a few minutes.” He finishes then walks out the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Brendon stares at the door a few second before remembering _oh right yeah clothes_. He’s a little confused as to why Spencer would need his jeans unbuttoned but does it nonetheless then tugs off his day old work shirt.

He’s just getting himself comfortable on the massage table when he hears a light tapping on the door followed by a timid “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

The next think Brendon can hear is the door opening and some shuffling feet, followed by a dull thud of a bottle falling to the ground.

“Fu—Sorry.” 

Brendon chuckles to himself. The masseuse was obviously new to being professional around clients and halted his expletive.

It takes a while before Spencer is ready to do the massage. Brendon watches him quickly heating up some of the oil that he managed to steal from the next treatment room and makes sure his hands aren’t cold by rubbing them together. The last thing anyone wants is cold hands touching them.

Brendon is fully relaxed by the time Spencer is ready, jolting back into reality when he feels the masseuse tuck a towel over the top of his jeans, just above his ass. _So that’s why he needed his top button undone._ Brendon thinks absentmindedly.

“Okay I need you to move your arms so that they are straight beside your body. It straightens the spine and makes it easier for the massage to work.” Spencer says, his voice slipping into a warm calming tone.

He does as he is told and wiggles a little, getting back into his previous comfy position, feet hanging off the table a little.

“That’s great. Now—Oh. Just—are you aware you have bruises on your back? It quite extensive actually.” The masseuse says, trailing an oil slick finger over the discolorations on his shoulder blades.

Brendon’s muscles immediately seize up. _Fuck_.

He raises his head off of the head rest and glances sat Spencer guiltily, to which Spencer just opens his eyes a little wider to convey _so how did you get them?_

“I do?” Brendon decides to play dumb. “That must have been when I fell off my bed when I had too much beer one night. I’m a klutz; I’m always tripping over something.” He says forcing laughs out.

Spencer nods long acceptingly but doesn’t look that convinced.

Brendon soon relaxes enough to place his face in the head rest again, his breathing evening out once more but is plagued with the thoughts of him being an idiot.

Granted, he was in for a massage because of his adventurous sex life but it didn’t occur to him that he’d get an appointment for a massage that day. He had hoped he’d have at least a week for the bruises to dull in colour to save the embarrassment he is now faced with. He was grateful however that Spencer didn’t press the issue further, even though he sensed the air in the room feeling a little heavier.

“And that’s why I don’t drink; Saves me from having accidents.” Spencer confides as he begins the massage, silky fingers sending minute shivers down Brendon’s spine.

Brendon doesn’t know what to say to that so he remains quiet; hoping Spencer would just think he was too relaxed to chat.

In the presence of Brendon’s silence, Spencer begins kneading his muscles, not letting up pressure even over even the darkest of Brendon’s bruises.

It’s exactly what Brendon needs.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan is still in the same position he was when Brendon left him that morning. The only difference was now Jon was sitting beside him looking glassy eyed and pleased about something unbeknown to Brendon.

“Brendon! How was the massage?” Ryan mumbled out, head lulling against the sofa.

Now that was a question he could answer in many ways. Possibly, _I was about to drop to my knees and propose to him at the end because jesus, his goddamn_ hands. _Seriously Ryan, I almost purred like a kitten_ but he settles with an all-encompassing “Good.”

Jon nods and shuffles over to grab his beer bottle.

“Did you bring pizza?”

Brendon sighs and mentally curses himself. He knew there was something he was meant to bring home. He blames the massage for making him forgetful.

He shakes his head and drops his keys onto the coffee table.

“Don’t you have an English lecture in like 20 minutes?” Brendon asks, glancing at the clock.

“You know what? It’s really creepy that you know my schedule better than me.” Ryan mumbles then clears his lap of half of Jon and his book.

“Well, I wouldn’t need to if you knew what you were meant to be doing most days.” Brendon bites back, sitting in the warm vacated space that Ryan left.

Ryan glares at him and slowly gathers his bag and lecture notes, which are in weird places around the apartment.

“Why the hell was my term paper under the sink?” Ryan voice says, carrying through from the kitchen.

Beside Brendon, Jon chuckles then whispers “I put it there.” in a smoke worn voice.

After that, Jon is lost to a world of giggles and snorts. Brendon can’t help but smile at him as Jon simultaneously tries to eat a mouth full of crackers and continue to laugh.

 

 

Brendon receives a phone call from his mother sometime after he wakes after a nap. She asks him the usual questions “Are you eating properly?” “I hope that Ross friend of yours is keeping you out of trouble.” It’s always the last question that makes Brendon snort because Ross doesn’t leave the house unless for lectures and Jon. It amazing he actually went to the opening of Beauty Natruelle at all and stayed to actually have a conversation with someone, albeit a strange one.

His mother makes her excuses and says goodbye, mentioning she’ll put a hundred dollars in his bank account for new study materials then hangs up.

“Who was that?”

Brendon startles, eyes shooting to the front door. Ryan smiles softly and dumps his school back at the entrance then joins Brendon on the sofa, immediately laying down, head on Brendon’s lap.

“Just my mother.” He answers, stroking a hand through Ryan’s unwashed hair.

Ryan makes an agreeable sound at the back of his throat and let’s his eyes fall shut. Brendon assumes it must have been a boring lecture to sit through because usually Ryan bursts through the door mumbling about what he’s learned in great detail.

“Boring lecture?”

Ryan shakes his head, the fabric of Brendon’s jeans rubbing against his neck.

“It was good but my lecturer pulled me aside afterwards and told me I now have a deadline on my term paper so I have to put more hours in which is a bummer. I’ll have less of a social life than I do now, _Whoop_.” Ryan mutters, sardonically.

Brendon frowns. He knows how hard Ryan is working on getting this paper done. It’s his last assignment before the year is out and Ryan had been working on it every day since he got told he had to do it. The lecturer obviously hasn’t noticed how much work he’s been putting into it.

“You basically just have to do what you’ve been doing right? I mean, you already work on it for hours a day.” He reasons, his hand stilling in Ryan’s hair.

“He said I need to do more. He said I obviously have _distractions_.”

“What distractions?”

“Jon came to pick me up from the lecture hall and I’m sure it didn’t go unnoticed that he was high as hell.”

Brendon doesn’t know what to say to make Ryan feel better about the situation so stays quiet. He has the confidence in Ryan that he’ll do well.

“Jon isn’t a distraction. Right?” Ryan asks, blinking sleepily up at Brendon.

Brendon shakes his head. Jon is the only think that keeps Ryan sane most of the time. Brendon does try but he doesn’t seem to get Ryan like Jon does. Hell, he doesn’t even know how they met or what they talk about when Brendon’s not around but Ryan is always happy around him so that’s all Brendon needs to know.

“Don’t listen to your lecturer. Just keep doing what you’re doing and he’ll get a term paper that’ll blow his mind!” Brendon says, trying to lift Ryan’s spirits.

“Maybe.”

Ryan falls asleep with Brendon fingers tangled in his hair.

 

 

Brendon makes a hasty decision while on his work break one morning after reading an article the previous night about “risky” sex with strangers on the internet. What else is there to do at 4 am in the morning but that?

It happens when he’s pulling a bag of oranges off the conveyer belt to run over the barcode scanner then looks up. The customer was exactly Brendon’s type; muscle ridden, tanned and a complete asshole ( _”Just do your job. I don’t have all day_.) 

_I’ve had enough_ he thinks and comes to the decision that he is going to give up sex completely. It didn’t take a lot of thought to get there, it’s just the incident with the customer proves he has the worst taste in men and he has a lot more self-worth than he gives himself credit for. Sure, he could have flirted with the guy and possibly even gotten somewhere with him but Brendon inevitably knows all he’s going to get out of it is an empty bed and a flurry of new bruises.

It’s not worth it.

 

 

“I’m becoming celibate.” He announces to Jon as he takes his usual seat on the concrete next to him.

“Celibate. Like no sex? _At all_?”

Brendon nods his head with conviction. It wouldn’t be that hard. He managed to get through his younger teen years with his trusty right hand so it shouldn’t be any worse than that.

“Wait until Ryan hears about this. He’s gonna cry with happiness.” Jon chuckles before taking a mouthful of a sandwich he probably stole from the stock room.

Brendon is about to make a witty comment but stops himself instead to ask “How is Ryan? He hardly looks up from his laptop when I’m around.”

Jon fits the half of the sandwich he’s been eating back into the packaging and sighs, looking at Brendon with a slight upturn to his mouth.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s hardly talked to me since that incident at the lecture hall a few weeks ago.”

Brendon can’t help himself from frowning. The way Ryan had talked about it to him suggested he was just going to continue how he’d been working all year which included Jon being around most of the time. He didn’t expect Ryan to cut him out. Brendon also feels bad that he hadn’t even noticed Jon not being around the apartment anymore. He’d just been wrapped up in his own world of classes, work and trying to get Ryan to eat something once and a while.

“Huh. You should go around later. I have classes then I’m going out with some friends. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

Jon flinches as if to say “ _yeah right_ ” and continues to eat his sandwich.

 

 

Brendon attends his extra credit class which he had elected to take after much persuasion of his Music Tutor complaining he wasn’t working enough hours to gain all the credits he needed.

After ten minutes within the class Mr Robertson, Brendon’s IT lecturer, gives Brendon an easy pass because of his past experience with computers. Granted, Brendon did embellish his story a little beyond the truth of _the internet is my friend_. He chucked a little lie about working as admin at his father construction company when in reality he’s never created a spread sheet or a database in his life.

“Thank you Sir.” Brendon says, shaking Mr Robertson’s hand.

“No problem. This class would have been too easy for you so just stick to studying for your major kid.” He replies, tapping a bundle of papers against his desk.

Brendon smiles gratefully at him and salutes his fellow class mates as he leaves with a spring in step.

 

When he gets back to the apartment it’s strangely quiet. There’s no music blasting which usually signals Ryan’s not home but then he remembers Ryan hasn’t been playing music for a while now, instead choosing to sit in the silence and dark working on his paper.

Ryan’s sitting cross legged on the sofa when Brendon appears through the hall, bag in hand.

“Have you moved at all since this morning?” he asks, kicking of his shoes and dumping his bag beside the sofa with a thump.

Ryan grunts and barely looks up from the laptop screen.

Brendon suddenly gets angry. He gets it. Ryan wants to pass his degree but that doesn’t mean he has to shut people out.

“Will you at least look at me when I’m talking to you? God, you’re acting like a child.” Brendon says, raising his voice, and throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Ryan doesn’t say anything, just continues to type with extra force.

“You need to get a fucking grip! I talked to Jon today; he said he hasn’t seen you in weeks. What is that all about huh?”

Ryan visibly flinches and eventually glances up at Brendon with tired eyes. Brendon suddenly feels sorry for him and shuffles over to sit beside him.

“I told him to come around later while I’m out. So---just talk to him okay? He’s not a distraction. He’s your friend. So please just act like a friend to him?”

Ryan slides the laptop of his legs and places it on the floor next to a stale cup of coffee.

“I don’t mean to do it.” He whispers, looking at the floor. “Shut people out I mean. I just—I thought the quicker I get my paper done, the quicker I get to relax and have time for you guys.”

Something drops in Brendon’s stomach when he hears the weary tone of Ryan’s voice. He grips Ryan’s left shoulder as a comforting gesture and squeezes.

“Listen. You _will_ get this done and it’ll be great. Have a little more self-confidence in yourself but in the meantime, relax and have a game night with Jon or something. He misses you. Hell, I even miss you.” Brendon chuckles.

Ryan looks over his shoulder and grins at Brendon, his eyes filling with the glittering mischievousness that Brendon’s missed so much.

“So Jon—did he say what time he’s coming around? I’ll have to tidy up a little.” Ryan mutters, starting to clear the coffee table of his lecture notes and a few stray drink cans.

“No, but his shift at the store finishes at six so I’m assuming it’ll be sometime after that.” 

“Great.” Ryan replies and Brendon can hear that he’s genuinely excited to see Jon again.

He feels a whole lot better seeing a smile on Ryan’s face.

 

 

The club Brendon usually frequents is a _special_ club, meaning it’s usually members of the BDSM community looking for an easy fuck. Brendon doesn’t even know why he went to be honest since he decided to be celibate earlier that day. Part of him thinks he feels like he’ll miss out on something by not being there so he goes and takes his usual spot in the far corner of the room, where the air is cold and he can have a panoramic view of everyone that attends.

The room that the party organiser rents out every Thursday is small, dark and always smells of stale tobacco. Brendon doesn’t mind it because the darkness is what he uses to hide behind; he can be whoever he wants under the veil of it.

He watches a steady stream of guys come through the door, each checking of their name with Dean the bouncer at the door. Brendon always laughs to himself when he thinks someone has hired a bouncer to look after a bunch of guys who most likely want to whip, beat, humiliate and chain each other up.

He’s sits for about ten minutes before Tom, the organiser, comes over and pulls out a seat beside him. He hands Brendon an ice cold beer, the glass stinging against his palm and leans back on the seat

“What’s up with you kid? You not interested in anyone?” he finally asks after a few awkward moments of staring at Brendon.

He shakes his head and sips the froth from the neck of the bottle.

Tom bites his bottom lip and quirks and eyebrow.

“That’s really not like you. Something up?”

Again, he shakes his head and taps his finger nails distractedly on the beer bottle. There’s a brief moment of silence before he feels a hand slip onto his thigh and squeeze. He glances up and sees Tom leering at him suggestively.

“Well, if you’re not up to mingling, maybe we could--? I mean, you’ve practically got fucked by everyone in here—why not me too?” 

Brendon grins mockingly at him and places his own hand over Tom’s, removing it forcefully from his jean clad leg. His skin is crawling with the urge to get away and go home as soon as he can, from the atmosphere---from _Tom_. He knew he should have never have went.

“I’d rather eat glass.” Brendon snipes before grabbing his beer bottle and making his way through the gaggle of testosterone fuelled men.

He decides to leave after his fourth or fifth beer. 

If anything, at least he got a little tipsy and it didn’t seem like he would’ve missed anything even if he had stayed at home. He got the usual dom’s, pressing him up against cold walls trying to entice him into bed with dirty talk and alcohol, which he enjoyed but soon made his excuses to get out the situation.

Brendon drains the last few sips of beer from his last beer and slams it down on the table.

“See you later Bill.” He says, tilting his head to the barman as goodbye.

He receives a wink from Bill then grabs his coat, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter for when he steps outside. He backs up as he slips his coat on then crashes into someone, the stranger’s beer spilling down the back of his jacket.

“Oh shit—I’m _so_ sorry. I’m a klutz. ” Brendon exclaims, turning around to apologize to the guy who he just walked into.

“I know. You’ve already told me.”

_What?_

Brendon looks up curiously and finds the man wasn’t a stranger at all. The masseuse from Beauty Natruelle stood tall in front of him, smiling sweetly as though he didn’t just get beer dumped all down the front of his expensive looking pale blue shirt.

“Spencer, right?”

Spencer grins and nods, airing out his beer damp shirt.

“Fancy seeing you in a place like this.” He smirks.

 _Oh_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive my lack of knowledge of the American college education system. (The credits, paper etc.)


	3. Chapter 3

Brendon has never been good at lying. His childhood was riddled with monstrous memories of trying to get out of situations by telling, what he thought to be, very well thought out lies and unfortunately his lying skills hadn’t improved as he made his way into adulthood. If fact, he knows they’ve gotten worse.

So when Spencer blatantly caught him hanging out at a _invite only_ BDSM gathering, his only option was to lie---horribly.

He chuckled as if to dismiss Spencer’s comment but it was pretty obvious Spencer wasn’t going to let the subject drop which could be seen by the persistent inquisitive look and slight tilt to his hips. 

“Oh yeah—a friend of got invited here and he couldn’t make it. Didn’t know it was—eh-- _this_.” he tries, faking confidence in his tale.

Spencer raises an eyebrow and chews on his bottom lip as if contemplating every word that just tumbled uneasily from Brendon’s lips then huffs out a laugh through his nose.

“I wonder why your friend didn’t care to tell you about that little detail.” Spencer says almost mockingly which indicates to Brendon has failed at lying _again_.

He shrugs stiffly and averts his eyes to anywhere but Spencer. Brendon feels so _invaded_. His sexual preferences was part of him that no one else is allowed to see until he gave them permission too and a stranger, more or less, had just happened to stumble upon it. The small talk they had made when he was getting his massage was friendly enough, meaning he was quite confident he didn’t bring up the whole “ _I like it when guys tie me up and make me submit_ ” thing.

“So, were you just leaving or?” Spencer asks, his voice surprising Brendon out of his thoughts.

“Oh --yeah actually. This jacket won’t dry itself of beer on its own.” He replies, his voice coming out an octave higher than normal.

Spencer faces dawns with sudden realisation that he did indeed spill his beer directly all over Brendon as when as himself.

“Dude, I am so sorry. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned? It’s the least I can do, after all it was me who was making my way over here to speak to you.”

“No its fine I don—you were coming over here?”

Spencer nods as his face spreads in a coy grin.

“I just noticed you at the bar and thought I’d be polite and say hi and to be perfectly honest, some of the guys in here are creeps. Talking to you was the safe option.” He laughs, pointedly glancing at a guy currently pinning an unsuspecting teen against the wall.

“Safe? I could be one of those creeps. You never know.” Brendon jokes, rocking slightly on his feet.

“You don’t look—the type.”

“The _type_?” 

Spencer visibly recoils a little and hunches his shoulders.

“Just—in the context of the place, you look like—eh—you look like a sub okay? I don’t mean any offence by that, I promise.”

Brendon almost bursts out in genuine laughter. Spencer was obviously a dom, which Brendon did expect when he took note of how of he held himself so confidently and his occasional glances at the lesser men as they walked by.

“Yeah well—Like I said, I’m not really supposed to be here so—I’m not _that_.” he lies as a very drunk brunette barges into him mumbling slurred apologies.

Brendon doesn’t take too much notice and focuses back onto Spencer who’s staring intently at him.

“Oh. Of course—I—fuck. Could we maybe pretend we didn’t meet each other here?”

Brendon tilts his head inquisitively. He’s quickly rethinking his evaluation of Spencer; maybe he wasn’t a dom after all. For one, he has looked at many of the other dom’s looking for a partner in slight disgust and his confident persona seemed to be diminishing by the minute. Brendon had never met a shy dominant at these gatherings but maybe Spencer was different. 

“Sure but hey, we can go for coffee sometime or something? Pretend we bumped into each other there instead?” Brendon suggests, grinning.

“Sounds great and we’ll just forget this ever happened?”

“Affirmative.” Brendon states, throwing a salute at Spencer.

Spencer laughs and it makes Brendon toes curl. He loved making people genuinely laugh.

“So can I get your number?”

Brendon nods and fishes out his phone from his damp jacket pocket. He gives his number to Spencer with ease then makes his stuttered apologies and leaves hastily, nearly tripping over many pairs of feet as he leaves.

When he reaches the crisp, bitter night air of outside he groans loudly out in to the night, making a few passers-by give him a glance or two. 

He’s mortified and wishes he could just start the day all over. He knew Spencer had probably gotten the wrong idea about him. He _definitely_ knows he didn’t buy his story about coming in a friends place and that scares him.

“ _Fuck_ ” Brendon mutters to himself quietly before wrapping his coat around his body and starting his walk home through the glittering lights of Vegas.

 

 

At the apartment, he greeted with a small wave from Jon, who’s curled up on the sofa with Ryan’s head settled in his lap.

“Dude he flaked out not even an hour after I got here.” Jon whispered, looking down fondly at Ryan as his lips twitch against the soft of Jon's stomach.

Brendon walks over and perches himself on the arm seat of the sofa and smiles.

“It’s about time he got some sleep. For the past week all I’ve heard is him tapping on his laptop all night.”

Jon glances up and gives Brendon what he can only interpret as sympathy. He continues to play with Ryan’s hair for few more moments then looks back up at Brendon, who sighs loudly.

"So, how was your night stud?” he asks, a mocking tone to his voice.

Brendon laughs humourlessly and flaps his hands about as if to say _hectic_.

“It was the same old things. Don’t even know why I bothered going since I know every guy there is after sex and considering my celibacy vow, it was a mistake to go.”

“You’re taking that seriously?”

Brendon nods, a slow grin appearing on his face when he notices Jon is trying to keep his voice low enough so not to wake Ryan.

“And the biggest failure of tonight—I met my masseuse. You know the one from my massage a few weeks ago?”

Jon’s eyes go comically wide.

“Dude. _Dude_. Why was he there? Was he looking for—y’know?”

Brendon shrugs one shoulder and slips a little further off the arm rest.

“I don’t know but he must have been right? It’s what that night is designed for; picking up strangers to fuck.”

“And did he—like hit on you?” Jon asks his voice louder than he probably intended.

“No? I don’t think so anyway. He asked if we could just forget we met there and I gave him my number to get coffee sometime.”

“Huh.” 

“Huh what?”

Jon carefully removes himself from under Ryan, making sure to place a cushion under his head. He watches Ryan bury his cheek into the fabric, settling again before taking Brendon wrist in his hand and tugging until he follows him in the kitchen.

“So you like this guy?” Jon says, resting his lower back against the counter top.

“I-- _No_. I hardly know him for god sake Jon!”

He frowns at Jon who is looking at him as nonchalant as ever.

“I had to ask. You don’t go to meet new people out of your world unless it’s waving them goodbye in the morning. Sometimes you don't even do that.”

Brendon trails a finger nail over a dent on the coffee stained counter top and considers Jon comments. He was right. Of course, Jon was always right.

“Well he may not even call so, I guess we’ll have to wait and see and if he does, It’s just coffee. I only want friendship.”

Jon crossed his arms over his chest and pushes himself off the counter with his hip.

“Alright. Hey, if he does become like your new best friend can he give us free massages?”

A bubble of laughter bursts out of Brendon’s mouth in relief as the atmosphere around them dissipates into normality. 

“I love you Jon Walker.”

Jon holds his hand up over his heart and flutters his eyelashes mockingly.

“Remember your vow Brendon!” he exclaims, imitating a female’s voice.

“ _Will you assholes stop flirting and go to sleep?_ ” Ryan’s tired voice sounds from the living room.

“Quit your whining Princess!” Jon shouts back as walks back through to Ryan, patting Brendon’s shoulder as he passes, leaving him to his thoughts.

 

Brendon can admit to himself that he was a disappointed when he didn’t receive a phone call from Spencer. 

After the third day he had all but gave up hope of hearing from him. He could understand the many reasons he had not to call especially after the circumstances in which they met each other again but still, a small part of him hoped he would have had the opportunity to gain a friend. Not that Ryan and Jon were anything less than great friends but he just wanted to experience the feeling of getting to know someone again.

 

Brendon dumps himself onto the sofa after a long day of work and classes. He throws his legs up on top of Ryan’s who had once again resumed writing his term paper.

Ryan glances up. “You left your phone here this morning. It’s been ringing every hour.”

Without thought, Brendon leans over, balancing his body weight on one arm against the floor, and reaches to grab his phone off of the coffee table. He indeed finds six missed call and one voicemail.

“Whoever it is better be dying or severely injured. Your goddamn ringtone has been bothering me all day.” Ryan grumbles his attention back on his laptop.

“You could have moved the 3 feet to switch it off you know?”

Ryan grunts in response, mumbling something about how its Brendon’s phone therefore not his responsibility. 

Brendon rolls his eyes, knowing starting another argument over something trivial with Ryan would be a waste of time and frankly, he was hoping Ryan would make them dinner later that night. He needed to be actually on speaking terms with him in order to convince him to do so.

He dials his voicemail inbox and waits for the mandatory speech of how many messages he has and the time when they were left.

“ _Hey! Erm—It’s Spencer? From the cl—the massage place? Well yeah. I’m just calling to arrange going for that coffee sometime. I’m sorry I’ve been able to call any quicker; the salon has been really kicking off since the opening so I’m always run of my feet but yeah, enough rambling. I’m free all this week any time after 5 so hit me up. Uh—Bye._ ” there’s some crackling on the end before the recording stops and Brendon pulls the phone away from his ear.

“Cancer? Car accident? Aha! I’ve got it. One of your freaky friends went too far into their sex games and killed someone?” Ryan asks, sardonically.

“None of the above. It was just Spencer wanting to go for that coffee I promised sometime.”

“So he finally called? I’m surprised to be honest. Jon made it sound like he just wanted in your pants.”

Brendon’s mouth parts open in shock. 

“Dude, if he wanted in my pants he would’ve tried a hell of a lot harder than he did. There’s no pleasing you guys.” He says, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“What? Look, I don’t know the dude. We’re trying to look out for you, especially since you’ve gone on a sex ban.” Ryan explains. “We’re protecting your virtues and stuff.”

“Right.” Brendon drawls, drawing out the “ _i_ ”.

 

 

Brendon manages to call Spencer back after an hour of talking Ryan into preparing the dinner and persuading Jon that he should come around to the apartment because Ryan was getting into his work headspace again.

Jon and Ryan were huddled up on the couch after dinner, flicking popcorn at each other when he decides to excuse himself into his bedroom. Sitting down on his unmade bed, he quickly selects Spencer’s number, not giving himself the chance to back out of it.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hey Spencer, It’s Brendon. I’m just returning your call about that cup of coffee.” 

He’s pleasantly pleased with himself that he didn’t stutter, even though his phone his slipping in his sweat damp hand. He reminds himself there’s no reason to be nervous and composes himself, holding his phone to his shoulder and wiping his palms against his jeans.

“ _Oh hi! Yeah, like I said, any day this week after five is good for me._ ” Spencer replies, his voice bright and happy in Brendon’s ear.

“Well, how about Wednesday? There’s a coffee shop down the street from me so I can just pick you up from work. If—you know—that’s okay?”

“ _That sounds great. Five on Wednesday—See you then_.”

When Spencer ends the call, Brendon chucks himself back onto his bed. He lets his phone fall onto the floor with a clunk as he stares up at his ceiling, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. 

_Friends_ , he reminds himself and rolls off his bed, ready to join Ryan and Jon’s popcorn fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait.


	4. Chapter 4

It isn’t until the day before his arranged meeting with Spencer, that Brendon realises _Jon knows_. In the head space he was in when the whole Spencer thing kicked off, he didn’t stop to notice that Jon knew all about his lifestyle. He thinks he really should’ve caught on when he got back from the club and Jon asked how it went because he never told Jon where he went or what he did.

 

“You told Jon.” Brendon accuses, storming out from his room and bringing himself to a halt in front of Ryan, who once again is lying on the sofa.

“No. _You_ told Jon or at least confirmed it. He thought you knew he knows and just didn’t want to discuss it or whatever. It’s not a big deal.” Ryan explains, his eyes half lidded, obviously tired after his lectures.

Brendon whines in a toddler tantrum like manner and throws himself down on the sofa, forehead in hand.

“I didn’t want him to know. It’s—weird.”

He hears Ryan shuffle about until he can feel him pressed against his side. 

“Obviously Jon told me about that night you came back from the club. He said that he was glad you finally talked to him about it because he was getting worried you didn’t trust him enough to.” Ryan exhales heavily. “I know maybe I should have told him not to ask questions but why should I? He’s your friend and he wants to know everything about you not just the bits that you let him.”

“He’s gonna treat me differently now.” Brendon says voice small and scared.

“When you told him about Spencer that night, did he treat you any different?”

Brendon squirms, fingers curling into fist in his hair.

“No.”

“Exactly! I’m actually glad you forgot about not letting Jon find out. You guys will be a lot closer than you are now. No more hiding things.”

Brendon knows Ryan’s right. Sometimes he was so focused on not letting Jon find out he’s wear sweaters to work in heat wave weather just so he wouldn’t see his bruises and cuts. He’d walk out of a room if Jon walked in when he and Ryan were having a conversation about his lifestyle. It was hard work and Brendon feels better knowing he won’t have to do that anymore.

“I’m going to go call him.” Brendon says, more talking to himself than anything and gets up, going back to his room.

 

The phone call with Jon goes well, meaning Brendon doesn’t insult, blame or accuse him of anything. Jon was always the rational one, making Brendon see that his lifestyle didn’t impact on any aspect of their friendship and mentioning that he always thought Brendon knew Jon had figured it out, which he didn’t; at least not until a few hours before, laying on his bed absentmindedly twirling his hair between his fingers and thinking about everything that had happened the previous few days. 

Brendon comes around to thinking; Jon finding out hasn’t impacted him as much as he thought. When he thinks back to the night he found Ryan sleeping on him, he remembers how Jon tried to help him not question or judge him, which is entirely different to what he expected him to do.

When he ends his call with Jon, it’s on good terms. He feels closer to him and is looking forward to actually been able to be his full self around him, especially wearing appropriate clothing for the weather.

Jon says goodbye but not before asking Brendon to ask Ryan to come to the phone. Ryan has his usual glum face on when he comes through Brendon’s bedroom door but it immediately breaks into a slight smile when he tells him it was Jon on the phone.

Brendon leaves them to it, a bit anxious he’s let Ryan stay in his room when he’s not there but he knows Ryan wouldn’t touch anything especially after the sex toys under the bed incident.

He chuckles at the memory and sits on the sofa twirling the remote in his hands, waiting for Ryan to be done with his phone so he can text Spencer about tomorrow.

 

 

Brendon tried not texting Spencer too much for fear he’d think he was a freak and back out of meeting but he ends up texting him thirty times during the rest of that day. 

“Could you switch of the tapping noise when you type on your phone? I’m trying to watch this.” Jon mumbled, lolling his head around on the neck rest of the sofa to see Brendon.

Ryan had asked Jon to come around during their conversation on the phone and he appeared ten minutes later with snack food and red bull for Brendon. He refused to think it's Jon's way of saying sorry to him.

Brendon frowns at his phone in concentration and ignores him. He and Spencer were in a deep conversation about why massages where beneficial for people, which in all honesty Brendon didn’t care too much about but he figures the more he knows about Spencer the quicker they could become friends. 

_Friends_. Brendon shakes his head trying to get the uneasy thoughts that come along with that word away.

“Huh. Spencer says eighty-seven per cent of people think regular massages keep them young.” He says out into the room.

“Interesting stuff.” Ryan gripes, eyes not leaving the television screen. “Could you please put your phone down? Jon has to leave in ten for work so the least you can do is pay some attention to him.”

Brendon glances up from his position on the floor to see Jon looking at him with a slight upturn to his mouth.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I’ll put it away. I’m just nervous about it and everything.” He confesses, laying his phone up upon the table.

“Hey it’s fine.” Jon says, patting the space beside him on the sofa. “Come here and tell Uncle Jon all about it.”

Brendon gives a small laugh and crawls up onto the sofa. The sofa was small, just enough to fit two people on it, but Ryan seemed to have found himself halfway on Jon’s lap, leaving enough room for Brendon to fit snuggly beside Jon.

Ryan is fully focused back on the television when Jon turns and whispers “What’s up?” in Brendon’s right ear.

Brendon shrugs and lays his head heavily on Jon’s shoulder.

“I’m just not good at making new friends. What if I make a fool of myself in front of Spencer? For example, have you been told the story of how I met Ryan?” Brendon asks, a slight smile gracing his lips.

Jon shakes his head, his beard barely rubbing over Brendon’s forehead.

“First day of college, when I was moving into our dorm I dropped a box full of my stuff on his foot. He wouldn’t even look at me for the two months, let alone talk to me.” He says, eyes roaming over to Ryan who is smiling, facing Jon.

“God. He was an _idiot_. He just dropped things all the time and apologise over and over again. I wish I could go back and tell past Ryan he’d one day willingly move into an apartment with you in the future. I think he’d flip his shit.” Ryan laughs.

Brendon agrees whole heartedly, remembering that _that_ Ryan loved nothing more than having his own space; spending most of his time alone. He hated when Brendon came back to the dorms after lectures, often electing to walk out and go to the library for some “peace and quiet.” When he thinks about it, Ryan’s actually not changed that much.

The conversation dulls down and they all resume watching the television, well aside from the occasional glance at the phone on the table from Brendon.

“Hey.” Jon whispers. “You’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Brendon smiles softly up at him before Jon makes his move to leave, only five minutes to get to the store for his shift. Brendon watches as he gets up and taps Ryan leg. Ryan gets up an immediately and throws his arms around Jon neck in a tight hug.

He watches them interact. Jon whispers something in Ryan’s ear and he laughs, bright and genuine. 

It’s then that Brendon makes a mental note to ask Ryan about it because it didn’t gone unnoticed that Ryan is happier around Jon and he’s always around. It leaves Brendon to conclude there was something going on between them but he’s known from previous encounter with Ryan, that he must approach Ryan’s sexuality with tact. He _really_ didn’t enjoy the black eye he got after asking if he’d hypothetically dump his then girlfriend for a guy he’d seen Ryan blatantly check out.

Jon eventually leaves, waving a final goodbye to Brendon.

He immediately turns to Ryan who is still standing in the same position Jon left him and raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Brendon says, lying back now that he has more space.

Ryan eyes his suspiciously for a few moments then sits back down, this time choosing to lay his head in Brendon’s lap.

“Whatever you’re thinking—you’re wrong.”

He looks down at Ryan then decides to leave things at that.

 

Brendon’s sweating, sweating a lot. He’d parked just a few shops away from Beauty Natruelle, making sure Spencer wouldn’t see that he’s approximately twenty minutes early to pick him up.

It was Ryan’s fault really. Brendon had been practising a song he had to learn for his final grading on the clarinet over and over, killing time before he had to leave but Ryan deemed the music “loud and unnecessary” when he’s trying to watch a documentary on the amazon rain forest. 

So Brendon ended up there after driving around some small suburbs of Vegas for a while. He even considered going to visit his mother as she only lived a few miles away from Brendon’s apartment but life had taught him that mother’s know _everything_. She’d sense he was nervous about something and he’d end up being late which wasn’t an option.

 

The heat in the car reminds Brendon of being in his bed so before long, he had slouched back into the comfort of the seat and began to take a small nap.

He’s only awakened by the sound of nails tapping on glass. Brendon’s eyes flutter open, catching the sun and the sight of the receptionist he had met only once before. She smiles widely and motions for him to roll his window down.

“Hey Brendon right? Spencer is just cleaning up so feel free to just go in.” she supplies helpfully then begins walking down the street, the sound of her high heels audible until she turned a corner.

He sits for a while longer in the car, collecting his thoughts. He thinks he needs the time to calm himself down or the first think that comes out of his mouth will be “Hey, so you like BDSM huh?”

Finally, he gets out the car and walks into the shop. He sees Spencer placing towels up on a shelf, rocking himself up onto his toes to reach.

“Hey!”

“Holy-- _fuck_. Don’t do that to me!” Spencer gasps eyes wide as he turns quickly in Brendon’s direction.

“Shit sorry I—“Brendon says, all but making his way out of the door already. He's fucked up _already_.

“No. It’s fine, I just didn’t see you there.” He chuckles. “How have you been?”

Spencer and Brendon exchange small talk, Brendon trailing around after him until he’s finished tiding up the salon.

When he’s finished Spencer unbuttons his white work shirt, slowly revealing more and more skin. Brendon can tell Spencer wasn’t doing it on purpose, it was just a combination of the need to change and the buttons on the shirt being hard to undo but Brendon doesn’t know where to look. Spencer continues chatting to him about his day as he slips on another shirt but he blanks out, staring intently at the floor.

“Are you okay?”

Brendon finally looks up and tries to prevent a guilty look spreading across his face. He nods and smiles weakly, trying to get the images of Spencer’s chest out of his head.

“Good.” He says smiling. “Coffee?”

Again Brendon nods and leads the way to his car. He almost goes to the passenger side to open the door for Spencer but luckily decides not to. After all, this wasn’t a date.

 

 

At the coffee shop, Spencer continues to talk about his day at work which soon leads to him asking about what Brendon does.

“Oh I’m a student at UNLV. I’m studying music.” Brendon says, grinning as he swipes his finger over the coffee crusted rim of his cup.

Spencer flips his hair out or his eyes then narrows them.

“You’re a student?” he asks, tapping a spoon lightly against the table.

“Eh—Yeah.” Brendon replies, with a slight frown.

Spencer huffs something like a laugh then bows his head for a moment as if the news was a big deal.

“So you’re a teenager?” Spencer finally asks.

“Yeah. Is that like—a _problem_?”

Spencer begins to shake his head but stops short of the full thing, instead opting to tilt it to the side as if he was deciding something.

“I’m twenty-four.” He suddenly blurts out, glancing up at Brendon with challenging eyes.

Brendon nods a few times to himself. So Spencer was five years older than him. That wasn’t a big deal to him but it did seem like it was a big problem to Spencer.

A waitress comes over before Brendon has the chance to say anything and clears away their cups and used napkins. Brendon waits for her to finish, throwing a small smile her way whenever she caught his eye.

“So you're twenty-four—is _that_ a problem?” Brendon finally gets to ask.

Brendon notices Spencer body language isn’t as open as it once was. When he was talking to him just moments before he made wide hand gestures, coupled with sweet smiles that Brendon _absolutely_ did not love. At all. The Spencer sat in front of him now was slouched down onto the table, leaning on his elbows and worrying his bottom lip.

“No. Just—I kinda feel weird now.” Spencer says, straightening up and leaning back against the seat.

“Why weird?”

Again, Spencer does that huffing laugh that Brendon is getting so accustomed to.

“I know we weren’t going to talk about it but eh—at the club? I wasn’t just making my way over to you to say hello. I was going to try hit on you but dude—you’re like young and at college and yeah—I feel weird.” Spencer explains in a hushed tone.

Brendon considers everything Spencer had said, ignoring the thrill in his stomach. He didn’t know what to say. Sure, Spencer was attractive. _Hell_ , he was gorgeous and definitely not Brendon usual type which Brendon found refreshing but he thinks of his vow and what that signified to him. 

_Friends_ Brendon thinks.

“Oh.” He responds. “It’s not weird. I mean, it was a bar. Of course you thought I’d be twenty-one or older y’know? No big deal.” Brendon says, smiling as reassuringly as possible.

“Right.” Spencer smiles back. “Which brings me to the question—why did they let you in?” he continues, looking defiant.

Brendon starts sweating again, his hands beginning to become damp. He knew his lies would come back to bite him in the ass. They always did.

“I—eh lied, I had an invite to go but of course you already knew that right?” Brendon mutters, carefully being quiet enough so that other in the coffee shop didn’t hear him.

Spencer grins, showing a row of whitened teeth.

“Yeah I kind of figured but not fully until afterwards when I remembered those bruises and cuts on you back that I saw when I gave you the massage. They looked like—well, like you had a good time the night before.”

Brendon feels his face flush and he mentally curses his body’s reaction to a stressful situation. In the back of his mind, he wishes Ryan was there for moral support or at the very least he’d change the subject and probably bore Spencer to death with useless facts but unfortunately, he was there alone with Spencer looking directly at him, his eyes almost asking for details about how Brendon got the markings.

Brendon squirmed in his seat and finally sat back, hands clasped together on the table.

“You’ve figured it out.” Brendon says, trying to laugh to make the conversation lighter but all that comes out is a breathy “ _heh_ ” sound.

“It didn’t really take much to do that.” Spencer says. “But—“he leans forward, again resting his elbows on the table. “We don’t need to talk about it. Actually I’d prefer not to because—“and that’s when Spencer bows his head and mumbled the rest of the sentence.

What Brendon _thinks_ he heard was “ _the things I wanted to do to you after I figured it out makes this more weird_ ” but he can’t be sure. Maybe he was just making up things that he wanted to hear, even if he wouldn’t admit to himself that he indeed wanted to hear that.

So Brendon lets it drop. Spencer doesn’t seem like he wanted to make himself clearer, head still bowed, tapping at the table with his nails. The stretch in silence becomes a little unbearable and Brendon thinks he might punch Jon for making him believe this would go anything better than horribly. 

Brendon finally has enough, noticing that the workers at the shop were starting to close up, the clattering of cup and plates hitting the sink in the back.  
“So, this was nice.” Brendon tries a questioning tone behind voice.

Spencer looks up and gives a small twinge of his lips.

“Yeah. Eh—listen, you don’t think I’m a creep or anything right? We can still like hang out and stuff? Just forget that I hit on a kid.” Spencer asks, glancing around at a waitress clearing up a table nearby.

Brendon wants to object, he’s not a _kid_. He’s flattered that Spencer did in fact _want_ him but his stomach drops when he thinks yes, Spencer did want him but most likely only for one night and that doesn’t sit right with him. Maybe he had a lucky escape because now he has a friend not an ex-fuck.

"No I don't and sure. I’d like that. You could come over to mine sometime for a movie night or something? I have a roommate but he’s pretty much always away in his own little world.” Brendon says, as he starts to rise from his seat, grabbing his coat.

Spencer follows suit, noticing the manager of the shop giving them a dirty look for holding up their closing up regime.

Once outside, Brendon notices how dark it had gotten before hearing Spencer say from beside him “Yeah. That sounds like fun.”  
Brendon turns his head and smiles at Spencer, who was currently wrestling his jacket on.

“Awesome. Well, you have my number so just text me about it sometime.” Brendon almost whispers as they walk back to his car.

“Sure. You live close to here right?”

Brendon nods, retrieving his car keys from his coat pocket.

“Well you just go home. There’s absolutely no point in you driving me home just to drive back. I’ll get a cab or something.” Spencer says, standing under a street light with his hands buried in his jacket pockets. 

“No dude. It’s fine, I’ll j—“

“Honestly, I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine getting home myself.” Spencer states, taking a few cautious steps towards Brendon. 

“It was nice meeting you again.” He continues, looking like he’s about to hug Brendon but stops himself.

“You too.” And with that, Spencer turns with a smile and starts walking down the street.

Brendon gazes at him walking until he turns a corner. He then gets into his car and briefly considers calling Jon but he’s almost a hundred per cent sure he would have went back to the apartment to see Ryan after his evening shift so he starts the car and heads in the direction of home, eager to tell Jon and Ryan about his night.

 

 

.


	5. Chapter 5

Brendon hates Jon and Ryan sometimes. He hates them even more when the gang up on him on a specific subject and won’t let it go. The subject this time being; how Spencer hadn’t made an effort to contact Brendon after their meeting.

“I told you.” Ryan sing songs as he makes his way to the kitchen, hand filled with a tray of glasses making him look like the campest waiter Brendon has ever seen.

Brendon glares at him, from his cross legged position on the sofa, hoping that if he tries hard enough Ryan will get the clear message and unavoidable message of “ _leave me the fuck alone dickweed_ ” but his attempts are obviously unsuccessful because Ryan emerges back into the sitting room grin plastered on his face and hand now free of the tray.

“You didn’t tell me shit. You and Jon where all supportive and stuff and now you guys are just-- _assholes_.” Brendon grumbles, pulling a cushion to his front and hugging it.

Ryan face falters, his grin slipping a little but quickly regains his asshole persona as he sits next to Brendon on the sofa.

“Well yeah but dude, after the first week that should have set alarm bells of in your head. My bet is that he got freaked over finding out your age and now doesn’t want to hang out with a kid.” Ryan states, twirling his hair through his long fingers.

“I’m not a _kid_.” Brendon grits out, not even looking at Ryan and pulling the cushion closer.

“To him? You are. That’s life and look at the bright side, we don’t have another person coming in and screwing up our friend group.” Ryan says, with obvious glee in his voice.

“Group?”

“Yeah. Three people make up a group Brendon.” Ryan replies, using is “duh” voice.

Brendon chuckles sardonically. “Oh what exciting lives we lead.”

He glances over just in time to see Ryan frown then open his mouth as if to say something in retaliation.

“It’s not a group. It’s always you and Jon and then—me. I’m an afterthought to everything you guys do so don’t go around saying Spencer would have fucked us up because if anything, at least I would have someone to do something with ok?” Brendon rushes out before standing and chucking the cushion on the sofa and storming into his room leaving Ryan dumbfounded.

 

Brendon busies himself with future class assignments in a bid not to have an excuse to leave his room. He didn’t want to talk to Ryan and he had heard Jon entering the apartment only an hour earlier and confronting Jon is something he could never bring himself to do, even with all the pent up anger inside him. Jon had a way of calming him down therefore making it would make Brendon feel guilty for even saying anything.

He hadn’t meant to let his thoughts about Jon and Ryan out. He thought they’d just go away over time but they hadn’t. They had starting to form a long time before Spencer had even entered his life. Jon and Ryan had a connection. Albeit, a connection that Brendon fully hadn’t worked out yet but a connection nonetheless and Brendon didn’t feel like he was needed for them to continue their day to day living.

Spencer was in essence, a chance to have what Jon and Ryan have. The movie and game nights with inside jokes and everything Brendon had ever wanted in friends. Sure, he was _there_ on those nights but he never got to listen to the hushed whispers and giggles at the other end of the sofa because it wasn’t meant for him to hear or understand.

 

Brendon had been in his room for close to three hours. He had completed a five thousand word essay and started his composition piece for his graded clarinet recital. Brendon laughs quietly to himself. He felt pathetic; scared to leave his room because of his _friends_ but he knew he had to leave soon; it was nearing his time for his shift at work so he had to get the courage to get over his stupid pride.

He prints off his essay and places his music sheets into his bag, prepared to go straight from work to college for his afternoon classes then slips on his work shirt. 

When he opens the door, he sees Ryan and Jon talking in hushed whispers in the kitchen. They both glance up, startled when Brendon walks up to the sink and fills a glass with water. He glugs it down without looking at either of them then places the glass down on the counter top with a clash. 

“Brendon look---“ Jon starts.

Brendon waits for a few moments for him to continue but nothing else seems to make its way out of Jon’s mouth so he barges past them, accidentally hitting Ryan hard on the shoulder. He hears Ryan mutter a small “ _ouch_ ” but continues through into the living room, sitting down to slip on his socks and shoes.

He sees Jon walking timidly towards him in his peripheral vision as he ties the final knot in his shoe laces.

“Ready for work?” Jon asks, hand buried in both jacket pockets.

Brendon nods then stands, hitching up his back pack up on his shoulder. He knew Ryan had a lecture that morning so he’d be accompanying them in the car drive to work. Jon did that sometimes, picked them up because he knows it was sometimes hard for Brendon to find enough money to put gas in his car.

“Do you really have to come in the car? College is just a few streets away for god sake.” Brendon mutters bitterly, after a few seconds of thinking about the awkward car journey ahead of him.

Ryan startles a little. Almost surprised Brendon had addressed him in the first place.

“I—I could do that. Sure. I’ll just---“Ryan trails off, going to collect his coat and notes needed for his lecture.

Once Ryan had went into his room, door swinging gently shut, Jon immediately sits next to Brendon on the sofa.

“There was no need for that. We pass that way anyway and it’s hot as hell out there but---whatever.” Jon says, sighing at the end to show a sign of his disappointment. 

Brendon wrings his hands together, feeling bad. He just had a feeling that when he got into the car with them both they’d do what they always did; gang up on him and he preferred for that to happen at a time when he didn’t have so much on his mind.

He sighs heavily, feeling the weight of Jon’s eyes on him and in any situation this was Jon’s way of a guilt trip and it was working as it always did in Brendon’s case.

“Fine. He can come with us but don’t expect me to talk about what happened. I just want to get through today.” Brendon explains, fiddling with the straps on his back pack.  
Jon nods understandingly before his eyes dart to Ryan’s room door and him stepping out of it.

“You can ride with us. Brendon’s cool with it now. Right?” 

Brendon doesn’t raise his eyes from the floor and mumbles a gruff “Yeah.”

He can’t see Ryan but he can sense that going back on his previous decision has made Ryan a little happier.

 

 

The ride to work was as awkward as Brendon anticipated. Ryan had taken the passenger seat in Jon’s car leaving him to sit in the back with his thoughts for the short journey to dropping Ryan off.

There was complete silence as Jon parked close to the college and Ryan jumped out, remembering to retrieve his bag from the seat beside Brendon. He waves in the general direction of the car as he leaves to go inside the building but never actually says a proper goodbye.

Jon remained parked for a few minutes before letting out an impatient groan.

“Will you come up front? It feels like I’ve got a well-trained dog in the back, not one of my best friends.” Jon says, a tinge of anger laced in his voice.

Brendon notices his use of the term “best friends” and the sensation of feeling bad earlier is instantaneously amplified by a million times. He picks up his bag from the floor of the car and gets out, only to climb back into the car this time in the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, looking at Jon.

“It is what it is.” Jon replies and that’s the end of the conversation as he starts the engine and heads to the store.

 

 

Thankfully, the store isn’t busy during the mid-week so Brendon spends most of his time twirling around in his set at the cashier desk until a customer comes along with a cart full of groceries. 

The customers that day, treat him well; some even giving him a tip which hardly ever happens to Brendon because to be honest, he just sits there and scans their purchases, it’s not a hard job.

 

 

By the time his break comes around, he’s a little anxious to go to his and Jon’s usual spot. He knows Jon’s probably already out there by himself waiting for Brendon so he plucks up a little courage and grabs his smokes, noticing that he’s not smoked much of them in the pack that week, which is strange considering he usually chain smokes when he’s stressed. 

When he gets outside, Jon is where he is expected, sat cross legged against their wall. Brendon raises his head as he walks towards him and quirks his lips up in a shy smile before sitting down beside him and lighting his cigarette. 

Brendon gazes at his surroundings for a while in a bid to look like he’s not dwelling in the awkward silence. 

“You being quiet is something I’m really not used to. Could you maybe stop that?” Jon voice sounds out from beside him, sharp and startling.

Brendon sighs, and lulls his head left against the wall to look at Jon.

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just been a stressful week and everything and—I’m sorry for taking it out on you guys.” Brendon mumbles before taking another draw of his cigarette, which is quickly burning to the butt. 

Jon grins, maybe happy he’s getting a sentence out of Brendon and flicks his burned out cigarette away.

“We’ve hardly been nice about everything. I hope you know it’s just our way of teasing and making it a little light hearted. We know Spencer not being in contact sucks but I guess—our way of helping you deal wasn’t the way to go about it. So, we’re sorry too.” Jon says, rubbing his palms against his jeans.

Brendon sighs but this time, it feels like he’s letting out all the negativity. He could never stay mad at Jon because he’s well-- _Jon_. So, Brendon shuffles closer and lays his head on Jon’s shoulder and chucking his cigarette away.

“I forgive you. And the things I said about you and Ryan—can we forget I said anything? It just came out. I shouldn’t have said anything ok?” he rushes out, closing him eyes against the glare of the midday sun. 

“Well, Brendon you should probably—you know what? I have no idea what you’re talking about. You saying something about me and Ryan? What? I’ve not heard anything like that.” Jon chuckles.

And this is why Brendon loves Jon so much.

 

 

Brendon gets back to his check out, only to be tapped on the shoulder by Jon a few minutes later. Jon bends down, eyes on a woman who was unloading her groceries onto Brendon’s conveyer belt and whispers, “I totally forgot to tell you but Ryan said Spencer called shortly before I came to the apartment and Ryan told him where you work and things so heads up, he might pop in.” before walking off back through the store to the stock room.

 

It leaves Brendon on edge after that. Jon didn’t say _when_ Spencer would come in and his head rings with the “ _might_ pop in” because there was no guarantee that he would indeed come see Brendon but he hoped he did before his shift ended.

Part of him was angry at Spencer because the dude had totally just disappeared after a self admittedly awkward coffee meeting. Brendon had expected a text or two to arrange that movie night that had briefly talked about but there was nothing and he doesn’t truly understand why it had gotten him so down over the last week because rationally, he had only met the guy three times and two of those times were extremely out of the ordinary. 

Brendon has time to think it all through as he continues his job, the repetitive motion of scanning items somehow soothing and giving him time to clear his head.

He completely zones out after his last customer of the day, sitting at his cashier point for longer than he should considering he had to walk to college in time for his classes but that’s when he sees the blurred figure of Jon and someone else approach him from his side. Brendon’s focussing on a kid throwing a tantrum in aisle two so he doesn’t turn his head. The kid was entertaining after all.

Jon finally shoves his shoulder, forcing Brendon’s attention to him and—Spencer. Brendon’s muscles immediately tense and he’s overwhelmed with anger, palms sweating and a harsh frown forming on his face.

“Spencer’s here. To be honest, it’s kinda nice to put a face to the name.” Jon tried jokingly but obviously senses Brendon isn’t in the mood for that and leaves to continue his work with a quick “I’ll see you tonight Brendon.”

Brendon stares at Spencer, who is standing spine straight and looking like he might bolt at any moment.

Spencer raises his arm, as if to gesture at something but stops half way, instead opting to out his hands in his jean pockets.

“So—Hi.” Spencer mutters, barely able to look Brendon in the eyes.

Brendon grunts and gets up of his chair, collecting his bag and coat from under his work station then darts towards the store exit. All week, he’s wanted Spencer to explain why he did what he did but Brendon underestimated how he’d feel when he came face to face with him.

Brendon makes his way out on the street, his mind focused on getting to his classes in time and ignoring Spencer but that’s made hard when he feels Spencer’s hand encircle his wrist and tug. Brendon stops immediately, the sub inside him coming forth and taking over for a split moment.

“What?” Brendon demands, quickly regaining his composure.

Spencer drops of Brendon’s wrist immediately and he sticks it back inside his jean pocket.

“I just wanted to talk.” He says, looking at Brendon intently with bright blue eyes. Brendon thinks for a split moment that the sunlight really makes them seem even brighter before getting his mind back on track.

“Yeah, well you’ve had a little over a week to do that. It’s a bit late now don’t you think?” Brendon snipes back as he starts walking again.

Once again, Spencer catches up with him, this time jogging slightly in front of his forcing him to stop dead in his tracks _again_.

“Where are you going?” Spencer asks, when he finally stops jogging.

“College classes.”

“Get in my car, I can drive you there.”

Brendon hesitates. The temperature outside was a little unbearable and he was already the type of person that sweats even in the coldest weather. He _really_ wanted to say no because the last thing he wanted was to give Spencer time to talk to him but the heat combined with the fact he was running late, had an answer of “ok” slipping out of his mouth before he knew it.

Spencer’s car wasn’t his car Brendon notes when he notices the floral pattern and “ _Beauty Natruelle_ " scrawled across the side of the doors. It was obviously a company car and he really wasn’t using it for business, chauffeuring Brendon to his classes. 

Spencer and Brendon get in the car in complete silence. The drive to college would be quick so Brendon thinks that he can bear the silence for a while, after all he’s had nothing but silence from Spencer for a week but Spencer doesn’t seem to think the way Brendon does and shortly after pulling out into the road, he tries starting a conversation.

“Look. I know I should have been in contact but I had somehow talked myself out of seeing you again because of personal reasons and I know I shouldn’t have and I realise I’m a complete and utter asshole for doing it and--- _Brendon_?”

Brendon turns his head, from his previous position on gazing out of the window and let’s his face look bored. He wanted a reason for Spencer’s behaviour but he doesn’t know _why_ he did.

“What?”

“I’m trying to explain and you aren’t even listening!” Spencer almost shouts his voice deepening and making Brendon’s stomach coil.

“I—I am.” He stumbles out.

Spencer pulls into a car jammed lane and sighs, noticing the huge queue of cars up ahead. Brendon was never going to make it to his classes stuck in a traffic jam.

“Fuck. I’m going to be late sitting in this. I’ll just walk from here.” Brendon rushes out, grabbing his bag and resting his hand on the door handle.

“You can miss a few classes for this.” Spencer replies, again grabbing Brendon’s wrist and holding it tightly.

Brendon’s not proud. He knows he shouldn’t be almost whining at the contact but Spencer just _commands_ your attention and Brendon, stupidly, can’t resist and in there lays a huge problem for him. Any doubt that he ever had about Spencer not being a dom just crumble in the presence of Spencer’s tone and body language.

He drops his hand from the door and sits back, back straight against the seat as Spencer let’s go of his wrist. Brendon thinks that maybe Spencer knows what he’s doing. He’s had years’ worth of experience of control and making people submit to him and he’s using it over Brendon, when he _really_ shouldn’t be. 

“Now, are you going to listen to me?” Spencer asks, taking his hands off the wheel figuring they’d be sat there a while.

Brendon nods, looking straight out through the front window, anxious to look anywhere else.

“Okay. Like I said, I talked myself out of seeing you again and I’m sorry.”

“Why did you talk yourself out of it?” Brendon asks, earnestly.

Spencer lies back against his seat and runs his fingers through his carefully sculpted brown hair then looks at Brendon, who had finally managed to look Spencer in the eye, his pulse racing more than normal.

“Firstly, the age difference freaked me out. I’m not going to lie about that and secondly, I—that night at the club I wanted to hit on you and even after seeing you for coffee, I _still_ wanted to and yeah, I thought it would be best to just leave this alone and let it fade y’know?” Spencer explains, his hand gesturing at certain points.

If Brendon wasn’t already worked up enough, his heart starts pounding even harder, making sweat bead across his forehead. Spencer still wanted to hit on him. Spencer still wanted him _like that_ and part of Brendon wants it too, wants it so bad that he’d consider dropping to his knees for him in any situation but Brendon knows better than to get himself into something that’ll turn messy.

“I thought this would be a friendship thing? Like, just hanging out and stuff. I don’t want—I don’t _need_ anything more than that right now.” Brendon says, sadly.

His body aches to be what Spencer wants but he wants Spencer’s friendship more.

Spencer looks out across the traffic jam, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts for a few minutes. Brendon watches him intently, watching the way how Spencer sometimes nodded to himself, just a small jerk of the head and watches a little _too_ closely at his tongue when it darts out to moisten his lips. 

Finally, Spencer turns and smiles sweetly.

“I can do friends. Just be warned, I still might try and flirt with you.” He chuckles.

Brendon laughs; feeling like a weight has been lifted of his chest.

“I think I can handle that.” He replies grinning back at Spencer until the traffic starts moving again and Spencer pulls away.

“So, I assume you have the day free now and I’ve just finished my shift at work—maybe we can have that movie night?” Spencer asks, now driving in the direction of the college even though Brendon now has no intention of going to his classes.

“Sure. Be prepared for my roommate though. He’s a hand full.” Brendon says, before giving Spencer direction’s to his apartment.

“Ahhhh Ryan. I talked to him on the phone earlier today. He sounded—eh-- fun.” Spencer laughs, as he drives through a small suburb.

“Oh he is. I actually have to apolgise for something when I get back so you wouldn’t mind sitting outside for a ten minutes or so?” 

Spencer smiles and shakes his head as he pulls up next to the apartment block. Brendon collects his bag and jumps out the car. 

“I’ll ring you when I’m done. It’s 9A so just buzz and I’ll let you in.” Brendon tells Spencer before slamming the car door shut and making his way up to the apartment.

 

 

When he gets inside, he sees Ryan college books stacked on the table and Ryan’s head buried inside one of them.

“Hey.” He says, aiming it at Ryan.

Ryan's head shoots up from out of the book and he smiles awkwardly. 

“Hi. Are you going to talk to me now?”

Brendon dumps his bag beside the door, goes over and sits next to Ryan on the sofa, immediately pulling Ryan into a somewhat uncomfortable hug.

“I’m really sorry about this morning. Jon and I agreed not to speak of it again and I’m hoping we can come to that arrangement to?” Brendon mumbles into the side of Ryan’s neck.

He feels Ryan snake an arm awkwardly around his waist then hears a quiet “We can do that but only because you’re such an idiot.”

Brendon agrees with Ryan wholeheartedly.

Ryan pulls out of the hug and eyes Brendon’s bag suspiciously.

“I know I’m not the best at time keeping but aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of a lecture right now?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Long story short—I have a surprise guest for this evening.”

Brendon rings Spencer and waits for the buzz of their door number.


End file.
